Remnants
by Blacked-Out-INK
Summary: "It's an insult to be called human." 20 years after the end of Nevermore, Jasper Lanes lives with her blind pyromaniac father in an underground city containing some of the last normal humans. Jasper's only wish in life is to see the sky , until one day a black-haired stranger from her dreams suddenly saves her from a mutant terrorist attack.


Thank you for choosing to read my story! And now for the disclaimer:

I do not own Maximum Ride but I do own all of my original characters

* * *

White and blue smears of color rushed past in a blur, wind roared in my ears, and my long hair whipped around, slapping against my face. I felt groggy almost half asleep. Where was I? My eyes widened as I looked me. I was falling. This wasn't possible, there was no way this could be happening. Adrenaline flooded my veins and my heart started beating twice as fast, but it wasn't because I was afraid, it was because I was excited.

I was in the sky.

I had never even seen the sky in my puny seventeen years of existence.

Of course this didn't change the fact that I was still falling, but falling in the sky was amazing. It looked exactly liked the pictures on the school computers but here, everything seemed to sparkle. The sky was a full, deep blue, and the white fluffy things were actually clouds. I wondered if they felt as fluffy as they looked. I giggled in my excitement. The feeling was just too awesome

A thought from reality put a crack in my sweet bliss. Exactly how high in the sky was I? I mean I know that the sky went up pretty far, but no matter how high I started, I was still falling. I had to hit the ground at some point, right? No, I wasn't going to let that happen. There was no way I was going to turn into a pancake without at least finding out how I got here to begin with.

I glanced around again, doing a double take when I saw what was attached to my back. It was like a softball had smashed into my chest; all the air burst out of my lungs. First, I was falling through the sky and now this? This situation was unbelievable. I looked at my back again, just to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating, and that the wings were still there.

Yeah, that's right, wings. My wings. I really didn't know what else to call the pale gray feathery things attached to my back. Once when I was little, my dad had taken me to the Observatory to see a whole bunch of animals that used to live on the surface (my dad said that they used to call it a zoo). While we were there, we saw these animals called birds that could fly through the air with things called wings. They were the most amazing thing I had ever seen, and now I had my own pair of wings beating strongly, pushing me through the air. I realized I was no longer falling, but _flying_. It was like I was in one of those anti-gravity rooms, just floating in the sky.

I tilted my right wing a little and dropped into a deep spiral. Shouting out, I straightened my wings again before I got too dizzy. This was just way too much fun. Diving then swooping back up, twisting, turning, and spiraling; it was the most exhilarating feeling in the world.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a gray blur heading towards me. I turned my body towards it to get a better look, a sucker for curiosity. As the blur drew nearer I was able to pick out six individual shapes. They could've been large birds, except for the fact that they all wore sneakers. Well actually to be perfectly honest, I really didn't know the habits of birds well enough to know if they wore shoes or not; a good thing for me to look up if I ever got home.

Now that they were even nearer I saw that they were all kids, each with their very own set of wings glued to their backs just like me. One looked just like an angel with blond curls and white wings. Another was an older girl with powerful, hawk-like wings. There was even a boy with strawberry blond hair that matched mine. But the most striking was a boy around my age with pitch black hair and wings like the darkest underground cavern. They all seemed familiar, like their names were on the tip of my tongue, but still complete strangers.

I waved at them, being the friendly person I am, and they all began to say something back to me, but I couldn't hear anything.

Thinking it was just the wind, I called out to them, "Hey, I can't hear you, you guys need to speak up!" Again they started saying something, but I still couldn't hear anything. It was like my ears were all stuffed up. I mean they were close enough and I could see their lips moving, but there wasn't any sound coming out. Then, slowly and in unison, they all began turning away from me and flying in the opposite direction.

"Wait!" I shouted, trying to chase after them, but while their wings seemed to easily cut through the air, mine felt like I was trying to fly through syrup, like trying to run while underwater. My wings felt like they had fifty pound weights dragging them down. Each beat was harder than the last. What was happening? What was wrong with my wings? I glanced back at them to check their condition and couldn't stop myself from gasping.

They were on fire.

Flames spiraled off of the wings and chewed at the feathers. A smell similar to burnt hair wafted into my nose and smoke clogged my lungs, causing me to break out in a coughing fit. I tried to flap my wings harder to keep myself aloft somehow, but it didn't even slow my fall. As I dropped like a rock, what I could only assume to be the rocky, barren ground, grew closer and closer.

There was only one way out of this. I began screaming as loud as a person with smoke-filled lungs could. Hopefully one of those birdkids would hear me and at least attempt to rescue me. I screamed and screamed but as the smoke completely closed of my lungs and my voice, I realized that no one was coming, no one was going to help me - I was going to die. There was no hope. For the first time in my life, I gave up.

There was no use trying anymore. My body was sore and tired and I no longer felt the burning need to breath. I closed my eyes. Any second now I would become just another hole on the surface of the Earth. My eyes started feeling a little wet even in this heat. I was never going to be able to tell my dad what a great father he had been, how as I token of my gratitude I would find a way to get his eyesight back.

As my mind began to fade away, a smooth, cool voice whispered into my consciousness. At that moment everything clicked: what the birdkids were saying, why I couldn't hear them, and why I was falling like a comet while they just flew away.

"You do not belong."

* * *

"Time to wake up! The date is Thursday, September 9th, 2032 and it is currently 7 o'clock. Today is a great day to go to scho-" my alarm clock hit the wall with a satisfying crunch. I sat up in my bed and stretched my arms above my head. Couldn't my dad find a better way to wake me up than with that annoying voice? A sudden sharp pain nearly split my head in half. Great, now rather than just being rudely woken up by my stupid alarm clock, I also had a terrible headache. As you can see, I am NOT a morning person.

I was having a great dream, too. At least I think it was, I couldn't really remember. Getting out of bed, I stepped over to my window. I think it had something to do with the sky. I sighed. Seeing the sky was one of my wishes in life, not that it would ever be possible. Area 37, the city I lived in, was covered with a titanium dome and above that was two miles of dirt and rock until the surface. Even if you were able to make it that far, the surface was contaminated and the only ones that could survive in that air were the 'enhanced humans,' the special chosen ones.

Why was I thinking of such depressing things so early in the morning? That's probably why I had a headache. Shaking my head, I walked over to my dresser. Well, it was less of a walk and more of just a turn. My room was pretty small. If you stretched out your arms out far enough, your finger tips would be able to touch opposite walls. At least it was longer than it was wide so I could fit a bed, a dresser, and even a desk in my room.

"You better be ready by now Jasper, otherwise you're going to be late for school" My dad called out. Crap! Was it that late already? I should probably mention this now: my dad has this uncanny ability to sense things, like what time it was, even though he was blind. He once even chased down a customer in a crowded street that had refused to pay him, without even hitting anyone.

I grabbed my school uniform out of the bottom drawer and stepped into the bathroom across the hallway from my room. Forgetting to duck, I succeeded in banging my forehead against the low doorway. I hissed in pain. Apparently the builders of our house though everyone was as short as they were and made each of the doorways only six feet tall. Okay, that's not that short, but after growing like a foot in the past year, I was at least 6'1'' and in the morning I could never remember for the life of me to duck my head before going into the bathroom.

Thankfully I had taken a shower the night before so I only had to brush my teeth, pull my long strawberry blond hair into a ponytail, and throw on my uniform. The school uniform was really old-fashioned, like something from the 2000s. It was also completely sexist. All the girls had to wear these plaid skirts, while the guys got to wear pants. They were still the same ugly plaid but at the very least they got to wear something you could actually run in. The rest of the uniform was a white collared shirt, plaid tie, and black dress shoes. Oh, and who could forget those knee-high socks.

I raced out of the bathroom to the end of the hallway past my dad's room and down the stairs to the front room. Our house was a standard size for two people - there were two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, and on the ground floor there was a kitchen behind a larger main room.

I dodged around the machines lying on the floor and skipped over to the counter in the back which we used as a table. My dad worked as a mechanic and our front room doubled as his shop. Nowadays it was way cheaper to buy something secondhand and get it repaired than going out and buying something brand new.

I dug into the plate of scrambled eggs and potatoes waiting for me on the counter. Did I mention that my dad was an _amazing_ cook. Even with only a certain amount of rations and you know, the whole blindness thing, he was able to cook amazingly, way better than anyone else in Area 37. Just admit it, he's the best dad ever. Not that I would actual say it to his face, that would be just way too embarrassing.

I hate my mother. With such a fiery passion that I could probably burn down the whole world with it . My dad never really talked about her, but after seventeen missed birthdays I just assumed that she had abandoned us and didn't care. I mean really, who leaves a baby alone with just a blind guy to take care of her? Not that I regret anything, I love my dad and he's an amazing father, but what kind of heartless person does that?

"Good mornin' Jazz." My dad came out of the doorway that led to the kitchen and kissed the top of my head.

"Moormmff," I managed to say with a mouthful of eggs. Then he leaned across the counter and flipped on our T.V. My dad watched (well listened) to the news every morning, almost religiously. Usually I just tuned it out but not today.

A horrible screeching had filled the room when my dad turned on the TV. I knew that sound. That was the red alert siren and it could mean one of two things: an earthquake or more than likely, a terrorist attack.

Yeah you heard me, a terrorist attack. Now who do you ask would do such a stupid thing like setting off an explosive in an underground dome? Mutants. Those creatures that dare to call themselves superior.

An image of one of the magnet train railways flashed on the screen of the T.V. and a newsman started speaking, "Approximately fifteen minutes ago, a fish mutant under the guise of a train conductor, boarded the south bound number seven railway and with little warning exploded the several kilograms of C-4 that were attached to his person. Thankfully our improved detonation warning detectors were able to prevent too much damage to the surrounding area.

Before the bomber detonated he said only a single phrase 'The Apocalypticas have found our king and now the human race will finally be purged for their crimes on this earth.' What could this possibly mean? Will this truly be our end? Now to our on scene reporter, Stacy -" The newscaster was suddenly cut off as the TV crashed to the floor.

I stared at my dad. In his left hand he held crushed bits of wiring he had been using to fix a radio. His other hand was bleeding from punching the television. I just stared at him open mouthed, bits of egg falling out.

My dad started yelling at the broken TV, "It's always those god damned mutants! Who do they think they are? Is killing hundreds of innocent people their idea of justice!? Who gave them the right to decide who gets to live and who gets to die!"

I couldn't think of anything to say. What was I supposed to say in this situation, in response to that? The crazed, angry person standing in front of me wasn't my dad any more. His clouded eyes could kill in a single glance.

This wasn't my dad, I repeated to myself. My dad was the always all happy-go-lucky and to be completely honest, I have never seen him this angry in my entire life. Not even when the school called to tell him about the guy that tried to look under my skirt. Ok, well maybe then.

"Hey dad, are you okay?" I whispered, trying not to startle him. A knock at the door saved him from answering. "Dad," I tried saying again.

"Jasper just go answer the door." Dad sat down wearily in his chair, looking like he had personally seen the end of the world.

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Thanks again for reading and I should have chapter two up in about a week so stick around and tell me what you think. Oh yeah, whoever can guess who Jasper's dad is first gets a virtual chocolate chip cookie! I'll give you a hint - just look at the summery.

_Blacked-Out-INK_


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